Winter Awakening

 A flurrying fireplace cracks and pops before you, your best crack at survival in these trying times. Somehow, you didn't pass on your friend's pretty stupid and very possible death sentence of a dare. Maybe your undertaking of an almost unrewarding task was merely proof that you're just as stupid as him. Either way, we'll see who's stupid tomorrow when someone is down three-hundred dollars, probably still the both of you. That's to say, if you're either alive tomorrow, or lucky enough to not have to gotten your fingers amputated when this is over.

 No time to think of all that, especially when in the midst of a colonial ghost town, left so desolate with it's aura of mystique that not once in history had anyone bothered, or maybe, dared, to use these former communities for profit. What there was time for, however, was to keep the fire going, and to keep your sub-par insulated jacket from falling off of your shivering body. And it seemed soon it would be time to gather supplies to maintain the warming blaze of your lackluster fire, for your pile of birchwood sticks had dwindled quickly with the hours you had spent here. You looked from side to side before heaving yourself up and away from the slowly dying fire. The creaks that came with each step didn't help, keeping you always on edge, even when you stepped out into the snow storm.

 Every space you looked to was occupied by old homes, maybe an expanse of a small snowy yard or two but for the most part, it was just you and whatever supposed horror still lurked these lands. Given a few minutes walking down the lone dirt path, you did eventually veer into the part of the little colony where the amount of houses began to dwindle, giving way to the trees that stood long before any of your forefathers ever set foot here. Not wanting to spend much time in the cold, and desiring a means of cover should any of the farfetched legends prove to be anything but, you stuck near the crumbling abodes and pulled small branches from the trees. By disregarding the occasional snap of a twig or two, really hoping it was just wildlife minding it's own business, you made an attempt to prevent the fearful part of your mind from overtaking, and propelling you away in a frenzy as if you had just reverted to a more primal stage. Such a task proved more difficult as the sun only descended lower with every passing minute.

 It was when the sky was purple and every minute sound was, in your mind, a serial killing werewolf, that you really began to regret putting yourself here. At the time of your acceptance, you did not expect to be so on your toes, even after having heard possibly every ghost tale, urban legend and folk tale of these decrepit plots of unclaimed land. However it seemed that soon you would be on more than just your toes. Off to your left, backdropped by an army of trees veiled with the dark, stood an even darker shape, looking to be too rigid and narrow to be just another tree. With the snow gently falling, almost conveniently molding everything in your sight into a form that in some way blended with the snow, it was hard to discern just what the shape exactly was.

 It's bottom slowly jutted out like a dress of sorts, the form above the bottom was thin, and looked to slowly taper atop it's moderate height. You could have sworn that shortening the distance between it and you would have allowed you to easily grab ahold and lift the thing, but every off putting detail would not compel you to do so. The shape was topped off with two white spots, those in turn loosely encapsulated by another vague shape that was near the same creamy white, that were too stationary to be just an illusion of the snow. To shorten, it just simply looked too...weird. You rubbed a finger over your little bundle of sticks, gauging how much firewood you had accumulated as you kept your gaze on these shapes of color, uncomfortably close to the shape of a humanoid.

 Without enough wood in your arms to feed the fire through the night, you used your free hand to gather what little wood was left around you, hastily tossing them onto your pile as an unprovoked groan sounded out, even amongst the howling winter wind. When that sound failed to repel you, the next set of sounds did. It only took but two eeriely slow crunches of snow to subconsciously convince you, and it took the same amount of time for you to register that you had even begun running. Whether it was because your own heaving and stomping prevented you from hearing anything else, or because whatever that was had ceased it's stepping, you could not hear that sick, alien crunching anymore. The retreat came with it's own problems, for one you could vaguely remember where you had set up camp what with what was happening, secondly obstacles hidden beneath the snow tripped you on almost every step of the way, and lastly you were now convinced that the figure of the urban legend you'd heard was, at the very least, in the same woods you were in.

 Now obviously, you aren't Dean Karnazes, so you didn't last long running through fields of snow and hurdling over rotting fences. When you saw your opportunity in the nearest home with a seemingly intact roof, you took it. If it weren't for the perceived horror supposedly tailing you, you would have yelped out with an expletive or two from the stinging sensation that surged up your arm as you vaulted into the home. Aside from the pain, it seemed luck was on your side, you had stumbled into the very home you had taken refuge in, evident with the smell of ash and the gaping hole in the living room ceiling that was only viewable after entering. Without hesitation you returned to the fireplace in need of attention, kneeling before the wisp of ash that ascended from the dim orange mess and pondering over whether mother nature or some monster would be what ended you.

 Your unhelpful thoughts were further fueled when you reached for a stick, the assuring texture of the bark absent, replaced with the dry skin on your morbidly cold, quivering hand. To confirm, you clenched your hand and opened it again to palm your forehead when the wood's resistance was non existent. Must have dropped the sticks while hurdling over fences, it would explain the splinters, blush colored palm caked with dry blood and absence of your tickets out of a shittier night, that only seemed to be getting worse. Glancing around for something, anything, you took a chance and tiptoed towards the singular piece of wood, the one that held the sagging window frame that threatened to bring down a piece of the roof with it. A slow draw of breath, and with your hands clenching through the pain over the sides of the wooden column, you stopped your strained pulling, with it ceasing the creak of the roof.

 In between all the noise a moment of silence paved the way for that lone crunching to ring out. At first it sounded too artificial, what with your grunts, mother nature's whispering manifested through the wind, you didn't think you would be hearing such a sound so clearly, but there it was, drawing ever so closer. The first few were enough to get you moving, through some miracle tip toeing away with such precision and silence that you could still hear the crunching even when you backtracked into the adjacent room. A day before you had peered into said room to assure yourself that you were alone after picking this home, key word, peered. What you didn't see was the mess of broken furniture scattered amongst the pitch black room.

 One loud wince, a thud and a cacophony of cracks later and your heart was once again threatening to kill you in a bloody implosion. Not only were you sure that whatever is out there heard the racket of your clumsiness, you were certain that you were going to be even more boned if you don't hide. When your eyes finally adjusted to the darkness you could make out the outline of a door three meters away, prompting you to rise and hobble as quietly as possible to the corner in hopes that it was not some sort of illusion. With your hand on the rugged rusted iron door handle you pulled, a little too forcefully, and were left with a thick metal rod in your fist, but no cover to conceal yourself with. You pocketed the fragment while you could still think, adrenaline rushing your heart and pushing you to look every which way for another door.

 Just then you felt your chest stop heaving, and with it you could hear clearly the sounds, or the lack there of. Nothing, no more crunching, just the wind. You felt relieved to not hear the crunching anymore, but continued, figuring a sudden cease from the incoming menace would not halt your search for safety. Faced with no other way of opening the door conventionally, you finally scanned the whole entrance and reached for the jagged hole in the top right corner. After some pulling it swung open to a space blacker than the room itself, you could hear the roaches scattering out in a frenzy over what little light shone in.

 Luck had favored you again, maybe not with a bunker sealed behind a thick iron door, but with cover none the less. The pungent smell wrinkled your face after the first step in, nevertheless you stepped in until you heard your jacket brush against the wooden wall, and pulled the door closed from the hole. Halfway in the door stuck, leaving it jutted out by a sliver. You tried pulling the top again, but only the top half would budge before reforming to be as straight as the whole door. After trying and failing to close the door you gave up, backing up to the left until the wall resisted you.

 With nothing more but to wait you drew the handle from your pocket, having to bite your lip to prevent yourself from shouting. A tear leaked from your ducts as you passed the rod to your other hand, the pain quickly irritating after also having your lungs under attack with each breath of the grotesquely scented air you took in. You remembered the splinters in your hand, and slowly ran a finger over the palm, painstakingly pulling each out as they scratched your tissue with the most miniscule touch. And the night went as such, picking out splinters until it was unbearable, waiting for something to come into the closet, going back to removing splinters when that grew too anxiety provoking and dull, and then repeating the cycle. The only thing that kept you from falling over and finally sleeping was the smell, each time you drew air more than a normal breath's worth you'd feel your face warm with a tear.

 After a couple of breaths an itch would form in your throat, prompting you to quickly shove your face into your arm so as to not alert something with your cough. But over the course of an hour you noticed that it took more than a couple moments for your lungs to procure a cough, and the itch that accompanied had dulled. With time you were slumped over into the cramped space, with no regard to the many possible bacteria you were breathing in. You awoke normally, when you coughed in reflex to almost choking on your own slobber. At first it was a bit jarring, waking up with a pained back, leaned into the dusty walls and immediately recoiling to the foul smell only to have no where to retreat to.

 And it was especially frightening when you heard a squish and a crack upon trying to stand. You couldn't see what, but you knew something broke when you kicked the door open in the reaction. It was only after catching your breath that you turned back to the closet, slivers of sunlight illuminating the source of the smell. A decomposed corpse, now a skeleton with bits of rotting body matter and faded maroon textile resting on the smudged yellow bones, of a red coat, the rusted side arm's barrel still resting in his mouth in the same position he'd held when he pulled the trigger. The placement of the hole in his skull explained the top of the door, you shivered at the thought of possibly touching the man in confusion.

 Shaking away the disturbed feeling, you composed yourself and ventured back into the living room, feeling once again off-put. You didn't know why, but a feeling of dread had settled into your psyche and made your movements jittery and sporadic under a pressure you weren't pin-point on the source of. That feeling was momentarily suppressed when you realized just how cold you were, and went to wrap yourself before groaning in pain, looking down to your hand. A wide splinter had managed to remain in your thenar, it's enflamed purple and yellowish aftereffects striking amongst the smaller, deep burgundy slits sprinkled on your hand. Each spurt of pinkish-yellow puss seemed to align with every thump of your heart, the secretion surged as you pinched the splinter and yanked it out of your flesh.

 Now you were left with a gaping hole, an amalgam of displeasing colors that compelled you to look for your bag. Speaking of, you could have sworn that you left it to the chimney's right, but seeing how you had arrived under equipped, and beginning to remember the hell of a night you had, you wondered if the bag was just some sort of hallucination, or an exaggeration of what you actually brought. No matter, you would search for whatever supplies you took with you, starting with this very house. A gaping hole at first stopped you from moving down the adjacent hall, but a simple leap brought you to the next room over. Brushing off the snow and bits of wood that fell over your coat, you spotted it right there, your worn backpack wedged into the corner of the room.

 Quickly swiping it away, you slung it around your shoulders, catching a glimpse of an oddity after turning to leave. Standing out amongst the yellowish brown of the room was a sliver of near perfect white, it's shape similar to that of some sort of skull. It was caught under a collapsed bed post, and compared to the body you had shared a room with, it looked immensely cleaner, almost like a freshly dead one. Only the singular skull protruded from under the bed, if it weren't for it's assumed lack of a neck you could have sworn that it was suffocated. Upon further inspection, the display turned out to be much more strange than you'd anticipated, the skull was not that of a human's, rather of some canine's.

 You should have left after that, leaving the corpse to it's resting place, but it's odd circumstance compelled you to look further, finding it strange how a wolf managed to get in this predicament and die here. Nevertheless, you strained to lift the bed up, only to drop it with a scream, darting in the opposite direction. Immediately after relieving the corpse of that weight it reanimated, faceless head and all as it scrambled away from the bed and wrapped it's rough fingers around your ankles. It's grip was weaker than you had anticipated, and as such you made it only one step before you were free. Without a thought you had leapt over the hole, barreled down the hall and shoved the door open, stopping just in the middle of the dirt road before the house.

 In the process you were pained with an extra group of splinters, but even as the adrenaline subsided and you looked back to the house you did not heed it, instead continuing your retreat. A few times you would peer over your shoulder to assure yourself that you weren't being tailed, and all the same you were only met with the view of more and more houses, increasingly dilapidated than the one you had stayed in. Before you had forgotten where you had came in, but as you ran closer to parts of the community where houses became scarce, you could remember each land mark. The tree split down the middle, the half buried Ford Tudor ran in the frozen stream, and the unfinished wooden fence painted only with white. One thing you for sure didn't remember was the severely underdeveloped brick wall, buried so evenly that you didn't notice it until your foot was stuck on a brick and your face was inches away from the snow.

 The snow was the last thing you had seen, it was as if you had either fallen asleep or gotten paralyzed seeing how you could think but not muster the strength to move. One thing that struck you as odd was the pain in your head and hands, accompanied by the warm, strangely comforting feeling aside from the pain. Glimpses of a dim yellow flashed before you, gradually illuminating a shape distinct against the small grouping of yellow. Once the flashing ceased and everything came into view was when the figure moved, first it's angular upper part turning and revealing the same glaring white stars from the night before. They remained stationary for a moment, you could make out the head of some canine, perhaps a wolf, the shape of it's silhouette matching one.

 After a moment of looking at the outlines you nearly jumped, though quickly discovered that you had been tightly constricted to something. The creature had moved, it's ears and pinpoint eyes slowly tilting as if it were curious of your presence, and then as slow as they had tilted they began to stir, drawing close while indicating each step with a faint thump, creak, and a sickly scratch with each inch moved. Skin moist with sweat and eyes dilating in fear, you struggled against the constraints tightened around your chest, waist and limbs, grunting and straining more as the figure came so close that it blocked you view of the fire's light and the barren room it illuminated. Just as you began to feel your chest's constraints loosen, you halted with a gasp as you realized the creature's eyes were fixated to yours, it's soft, furry hand pressed against your cheek, rubbing it's thumb over as if it were inspecting some sort of wound. At this point you struggled to breath, your heart would beat so fast that you could have sworn that the monster could hear as it moved it's head to your chest.

 And you just allowed it to, not like you could stop it's discomforting hands on exploration. You couldn't help but wonder, with all of the major arteries it didn't sink it's teeth into, what was it after? That was answered when you felt it's silk hands grip your wrist gently, one hand gently touching an incision with it's pointy claws. When you yelled at the thing to stop it did, but with a yip, as if you had startled it. Then the situation grew odd, it gently clasped it's hands around yours, petting the top of your hand as if to assure, before it began to swipe away at the cloth constraints around your arm.

 Perplexed, you glanced from your hand to the monster intently cutting away at the constraints. It's claws were sharp enough to conclude the swiping quickly, when it was, you kicked into drive. Without a second thought, you socked it in the right side of it's maw, feeling how your skin lightly teared after getting caught under it's teeth. The punch was powerful enough for the creature to be knocked to the ground with a yip, and for you to wince in pain, shaking your hand after the strike. Even after having been freed and punching a monster you didn't feel invigorated or less scared, rather you felt sorry for the monster, an uneasy guilt at the pit of your stomach after hearing it whine and whimper like a defeated dog.

 When it pushed itself to it's feet that guilt dissolved, being replaced with fear as it stared intently at you, hands raised to it's chest in a semi hug as it gazed. It huffed out before walking, you raised your first once more in an attempt to ward it off, but it looked to have gotten over the assault already. Fist twitching with anxiety, you swung at it's chest as soon as it drew within arms length, muttering an expletive as the monster caught your hand and clasped it like it had before. Hand in hand it took a step closer, eyes still fixated to you as it pulled your hand closer to it's slightly ajar maw. Another expletive and you squeezed your eyelids shut, turned your head and braced for a very sloppy amputation, breaths growing heavy as drawn out seconds passed without the piercing sensation of it's teeth.

 You cringed when, rather than a rush of adrenaline and the tearing of flesh, a slimy, snake like appendage crawled down your hand, pressing against every slit and hole while making clear it's squishy and wet movements. Eyes opened wide with a mix of fear and confusion, your head shot to the monster, mouth agape as the two of you watched each other, you the monster giving your hand one hell of a licking, and the monster trying to make amends for actions it wasn't sure it executed. Save for the awkwardness of an urban legend mistaking your hand for a phallus, and the bawdy feeling it gave off doing so, you didn't feel hurt or in danger, not even when you could feel it's tongue ever so slightly dip into the deep cut. Rather it began to feel warm, and unknown to the monster, you wished it would continue with how nice it felt. When it was done it left it's head stationary, puffing it's cold breathe onto your hand as you too looked into it's hungry stare.

 It withdrew it's hands from yours, leaning back a little and giving off a low wine as if to inquire. Of course you didn't know what to respond with, you weren't even sure if it was asking a question, you merely brought your hand back into view and gawked at the work it had done. Not a scratch on it, even the oozing hole in your palm was gone, replaced with fresh skin covered in thick saliva. You wiped the hand off against your jacket, inspecting it once again and still finding shock in your fresh hand, before you began to pull at the cloth holding you down by the chest. The monster was quick for a comeback, grasping your hand by the wrist and pushing it away as it tore at the cloth on it's own, tearing from the chest down to the feet before finally undoing the bind around your right hand.

 When it was finished you sat up in the makeshift bedding, not having much time to do anything before the monster made it's move and hastily pulled your unattended hand. Once again it opened it's maw slightly as if to gauge the size of your hand, before it's shiny black tongue descended and worked it's magic on your wounded appendage. This time you didn't sense the aura of awkwardness as before, in fact, you thought it would look adorable if it had a face to look at, but it appeared cute as is. It's ears twitching, eyes were affixed as it tenderly mended your hand, a whine following each lap. It began to glance from your hand to your eyes halfway through, you managed to catch it off guard, evident as it's licking ceased momentarily and it's ears perked up.

 You had raised your free hand and gave it a good scratching behind the head, feeling it's slick but soft fur under your tips. The white lamp eyes of the monster darkened as if to signify closed eyes as it leaned it's head into the scratch, it's tongue hung out as it enjoyed itself on your affection. When you stopped it whined for more, before commencing it's final touches to your hand and gently placing it to it's head as it cooed waiting for you to use both hands. You complied with it's unstated request, scratching the back of each ear even as the monster fell onto your body. As it laid you experimented with where it liked it's affection, easily finding that touching under the skull didn't gather much of a response, and so continued on with scratching its soft, short haired ears.

 It was only after an estimated half hour of intimacy that you realized that your friend would be entering the woods soon. You tried to cut the scratching short but found it difficult as the creature would gently press it's hands against your chest, pleading for you to stay even when you tried to rise. A little too much force must have been used on one attempt, the creature lost it's balance, flipped to it's back as it laid there struck with confusion. You arose and tried to pull it up by it's hands, but it seemed to be pleading with you once more, trying instead to pull you closer as it scooted it's way to the makeshift mattress you had been tied to. Looking behind to the window, you could clearly see the houses outside and the snow flurrying to them, it was still day out so your friend should either be on his way or looking for you, yet here you are toying with the very thing he warned you about.

 Of course your mind was once again pulled back to the thing before you, the monster sheepishly trying to beckon you in a form of communication you didn't know of. And it was when it gained your attention that it began to reveal it's true reasons for not demolishing you, it's hands both preparing your's and it's own body. The monster captivated you, smoothly reaching for your jacket and pushing it out of the way. When you felt it hooking a finger through a belt loop you froze, unable to procure a movement in response. All you did was hold onto it's hand, too confused to do anything else and shocked by your own reaction, merely the heat festering in your face.

 It's tongue hung low, saliva dripping a blotch of black onto the chest piece of it's grey, body-length shawl as it both drew you closer and drew the hem of the shawl to it's waist, revealing it's lewd expression of excitement, so wet that you could see the gold of the fire shining off of the black surface. No longer was it an it, he was a he. The longer you looked, the more needy you noticed the monster become, whining incessantly as he slowly moved the hand he grasped closer, passing his midriff until you could feel it pulsating under your hand. Woah there! Hold the damn phone there, Anons, this is not meant to be seen!

 Why don't I tell y'all a little story that happened to me back in high school? Ya' know, something that's not, whatever the hell I was just writing? Okay so, there was this kid, he was a little weird but he was in my little group of loser weirdo friends, so you know, not many choices as to who to hang out with, you get me? So anyway, we were sitting at lunch and this kid just picks the banana off of his tray, and chucks it behind himself. No fucking reason, just does it for shits and grins.

 Now it's kind of important to know that we sat at a smaller table that was in front of a line of long tables, and in this row of tables sat all the immigrant kids, well, mostly just the ones who pretend to not speak English. So, I look over and the banana lands in one of these kid's trays, and not a second later the whole fucking table just gets up and midget walks their way over to my friend, so it's just a group of small people grabbing at this kid while blabbering Spanish really fucking quickly, swiping their hands at this kid as he just screeches from the amount of people clawing at him 'n shiet. Me and the other kid just laughed, one of the funniest things I've witnessed happen in that shit hole... Nothing? Alright, how about something I saw on a show? So the show's called Rick and Morty, and in this one episode, oh fuck, I almost spoiled it.

 Okay I'll cut to the chase, so Rick, a scientist, calls Morty, his grandson, into the garage, but he's no where to be seen in there, just completely gone. Rick's voice sounds out again, he tells Morty to come closer to the bench, keep in mind he's still no where to be seen, and then on the desk there's a lonely pickle. Rick tells Morty to flip the pickle over, and wouldn't you fucking know it, that jack ass Rick's face was on the pickle! He turned himself into a pickle! He was called pickle rick!!

 You should watch the episode, funniest shit I've ever seen, it's the third episode of the third season of Rick and Morty. Swear to god, damn near shit myself laughing at that, got damn. Nothing? Well fuck, uhmmm... Let me think here real quick... Okay so here's the story of how you are now breathing swallowing and blinking manually there is no comfortable spot in your mouth for your tongue it only hangs around you can always see a piece of your nose in your view somewhere on your body there is an itch that you have not gotten to you are producing saliva within your mouth which is composed of your jaws the lower portion has weight meaning that it doesn't just shut on it's own you have to make a constant effort to hold it closed meaning you are also holding your mouth closed manually hold your arm up and relax your fingers to notice that they don't just hang they curve upwards to your palm you haven't blinked once while reading this in 2013 Donald Trump bought a construction company in New York called Spyro where in he invested millions for the company to expand the subway system but the project was never finished even after funds were delivered pictures of the unfinished subway tunnels have only just now surfaced as a result of a brave urban explorer photographing the site and are easily found in Google images by searching the term Spyro Subway alternatively you can find documents of the transaction and logistical data on the failed project on nhentai they were uploaded there in an attempt to evade other websites taking them down to hide the truth you can find the documents with the url https://nhentai.net/g/220787/
... Nothing still? Tough crowd. Oh well, back to your story you go. Walter.

 His hands gently clenched and relaxed, the back of your shoulders still filling his grip, as he laid there maintaining a full body contact with you. His writhing body slowly rubbed up as if he was tryin to dig through every layer of clothing you wore. Maintaining your surges of bliss were his short, choppy moans, the breathes of which warmed the side of your face as he revelled in the after affects of the love making. In between his inadvertent stimulation you could think clearly of what just happened. For your first time, you didn't expect to be wrestling under the sheets with another male, let alone a monster, but you didn't feel an ounce of displeasure over the matter of sexuality in this, nor did you ever dismiss your lust for monster kind, and so overall felt especially pleased with the weekend's outcome.

 Your pleasure was replaced with a more mature variant when you heard another zip, but your arousal calmed upon darting to source of it. It was merely the monster trying to feel your skin again, exploring the shape, bends and curves of your chest as your bliss, much to your wishes for more, waned with time even as the monster continued to initiate it's hungry cuddles. It was after replaying each thought from post coitus clarity that you realized something, with how much time you've estimated to have passed, at any second your friend could walk in on you chumming it up with the very thing he warned you of, and in turn, would run away in fear, leaving you to this damned site indefinitely. And of course you weren't sure how long you would last out here with a creature you couldn't mutually understand. Because of this, you gently pulled the creature off of you, sitting him up and holding his hand trying to think of what you would say.

 After a few seconds of silence you relayed to him your thoughts, even if he wouldn't understand you told him everything, from your friend awaiting to your home elsewhere. He didn't seem to understand, what with his constant head tilting, whining at parts and the gradual tightness you felt with the hand he held. What really hung him up was the word name, at first you thought his sneezing was accidental, but when you said it again once more he huffed, having already sneezed before. Just to see if it was circumstance or his doing, you said name again and got the same response, with an added hand over the one he already held, and a fluffy acquaintance signaling his acknowledgement behind his back. You chuckled at his response, asking him what his name was and eagerly following suit as he let go and walked to the window.

 Before the pane of glass laid a puddle of snow, the monster lowered to his hands and knees and began to scribble away in the substance. You crouched beside to watch, when he was finished he sat back with his legs crossed as he awaited a response. In jagged letters he had scribed a single word, "Malo". Repeating the word to him garnered an especially human response, he shook his head in approval, gradually shifting to more animalistic mannerisms when you began to call him by his name. For the next couple of minutes you toyed with Malo a bit, scratching him in his favorite spot but stopping midway, remembering that not only were you in the middle of no where, your ticket home was probably waiting.

 You bid Malo farewell and began to vault the window, being stopped by a pull to the back of your jacket. Already knowing the culprit, you turned to face Malo, still in the middle of climbing the window sill, and explained to him once again why you had to leave. This time he understood, a few seconds more you could feel his grip shake before he let go, stepping back and sheepishly clasping his hands as he watched you exit. You couldn't bare to see Malo like that, and had to give him a little bit of joy once again, and added that you would return one day. The reaction was priceless, once again his tail waggled like a giant pendulum, his eyes once more wide with the same exuberance he'd expressed when he was under you.

 A smile spread across your face, you waved him good bye one last time, absolutely adoring his wave back. Walking away with hints of hesitation, there before you was the familiar black Toyota, sitting in the intersection of two unused roads, too clean to just be abandoned. On your relatively short walk to the SUV a howl rang out, knowing exactly who it was from you chuckled, memories of the past half hour replaying. You had to wait around for only half an hour for your friend to show up, almost getting shot but in the end, surviving this whole ordeal with zero injuries, and gaining more than just three hundred dollars, an inner woods buddy.